Paipa was lovely. We washed the semester away in hot algae-green waters. We took three buses to get to the neighboring town of Nobsa, never waiting more than a minute. Buses are my life, once again, but this time in a much more organic sense. Rather than talking about them all the time (I know I don't have to tell you that!) I'm depending on them. Nobsa held out its treasures for us to hold; they were soft and we brought lots of them home. I tasted coco panela for the first time...ah, young love.

The Foro de Bogota today was partly excellent, partly just funny. I love that Bogota has its own version of the colorful gadflies that made the transit advocate's life so enjoyable in Atlanta. Today a woman stood up during the Q&A after each session to say, "Well, more than a question, I just want to say..." and then proceeded to expound on how it was all lies, lies, lies; and that pedestrian bridges were just a way to make money and were not worth the extra steps (she counted them) because everyone should just be able to cross the street in a "natural" way.

After the session on mobility, she followed the TransMilenio representative outside the auditorium, haranguing her all the way to the university gates. As the TM rep hailed a cab, she confided, somewhat apologetic, that she had to take a taxi today because she didn't have the car. Some things are the same all over the world...

But the local expert on participatory planning was quite good, crisp and realistic yet slightly sunny in his views, while the director of Ciudad Humana was passionate in his defense of pedestrian and public transportation users' rights to the city. Reminded me strongly of people I knew in Atlanta. (Ciudad Humana organizes night cycling rides through downtown Bogota -- I'm going to sign up!)

It's amazing to me how safe this city feels now. I walk down streets I once was unsure of, and now I feel so at home. For instance, Avenida Caracas in Chapinero: now instead of feeling insecure, I notice the crowd of mariachis, waiting for a Saturday night gig, and whimpering puppies in too small cages.

A final observation from today: at the forum I met someone who works with community education on environmental issues, or so I gathered from the literature I was given. But in our short and surprisingly congenial conversation, he told me in at least five different ways that he despises my government. Literally, in those words. For what it claims to represent but subverts, for its grip on power, for its disdain for human rights for the rest of the world, for its systematic repression of social movements around the globe. This was nothing new to me, nothing I hadn't thought before. What shocked me thinking of it later was how little his views affected me. I mentioned that many of us feel responsible for what has been done in our name, and struggle to stop it, but I didn't feel guilty, or really implicated the way I know some people do when confronted with this kind of anti-American feeling. I was completely unsurprised, utterly nonplussed. He hastened to add that he hadn't meant to offend me, and that he knows there are many wonderful Americans, and just as many awful Colombians, but I wasn't offended.

I was mostly just saddened that I feel so little identification with my country. When people ask where I'm from, it occurs to me first to say "Atlanta," then Georgia. If I get a blank look, I say, "estadounidense." (I heard a historian say someone he interviewed didn't like that term because it made him feel dense.)